


Sinful SWD Collection

by pocketfulofposies



Category: Shall We Date?: Lost Alice, Shall We Date?: Ninja Shadow, Shall We Date?: THE NIFLHEIM+
Genre: Accidental Stimulation, Clothed Sex, Dry Humping, Eldritch Horror Isabella, F/M, Friendship, Ghost Sex, Transparent Nick
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-19
Updated: 2019-04-12
Packaged: 2020-01-12 02:27:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18437120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pocketfulofposies/pseuds/pocketfulofposies
Summary: Various sweet and spicy oneshots and two-shots for assorted Shall We Date? otome games and suitors.  All are suitor x main character (of their respective game).  Tags will be updated as more scenarios are added.





	Sinful SWD Collection

**Author's Note:**

> Not many of these games have very big fandom followings but I have lots of feelings, so I'm determined to bring some more content to the table myself!

"Hmm, now let's see," Isabella mused, rummaging through her extravagant dressers and wardrobes for anything that might spark an idea.  Nick was depending on her to get him noticed, after all, but demonstrating the existence of a being no one else could see or hear proved to be a difficult task.  But once she succeeded, she knew he would smile that brilliant smile, not tinged with loneliness or sadness, and it would all be worth it.

Finally, her inky black hand-like appendages grasped a small, decorative makeup kit, and she tossed it on her bed beside Nick, who sat criss-cross twiddling his thumbs.  She moved to join him, wielding a colorful makeup brush that never saw much use like a mighty sword. 

"What if I put this on you?" she asked, holding the handle of her makeup brush toward the closest thing she had to a face, where the end disappeared seamlessly.  He surmised she was chewing on it.

He looked appalled at the suggestion.  "It wouldn't suit me."  

"No, silly, that isn't what I meant--"  She dabbed its bristles in the brightest of blood-red foundations, then began to press it to his cheek.  "If I apply a thick enough layer of this powder on your face, won't people see it?" 

The brush did come in contact with him, making him shiver--but the little red particles only stuck for a moment before passing right through him. "I don't think that this will work," Nick said despondently when she went in to apply another coat.  

"You've said that about all of my ideas.  Try not to be so negative, Nick."

"But none of them  _have_  worked..."  His voice was quiet when he said this, and he bit his lip, as though he felt guilty for pointing it out at all.

She only stopped when a crumbly-looking red stain began to form on her silken bedsheets, Nick's face colorless and gray as ever.  She sighed deeply.

His shoulders slumped.

"There's no need to fret just yet, I haven't given up trying," she soothed, scraping a bit of foundation on what could be considered fingers, but her void-like body seemed to absorb it completely.  "Oh dear..."

Uselessly, she thrusted out her arm and raked her hand down his abdomen,  which made him jolt at the sudden contact.  Her "skin," if it could be called that, was soft and inhumanly smooth, seeming to slither and shift against him.  It was a futile attempt to smear any makeup left on him visibly, but of course nothing showed.  No King nor God could know what happened to those fine particles, swallowed whole by her abyssal form.  This plan seemed to fall apart more and more by the second.  Only then did she relent, hanging her head.  Her long, multicolored braid cascaded forward, pooling in his lap like so many bolts of fine silk threaded together.

Now she wouldn't see that smile, would she.

"I'm so sorry, Nick--I keep failing you," she said, and it took a moment for her words to register in him.  He could not comprehend why she would apologize for such a thing, when the mere attempt--or less still perhaps, his mere presence in her mind--meant everything to him.

He sighed, feeling rather useless.  She dedicated so much of her time and attention to comforting him, to helping him, but when she needed comfort in turn, he was at a complete loss.  "I'm the one who has failed you," he countered.  "You do so much for me, more than I could ever ask for.  All I do is get you tangled up in my own problems.  If not for me, you wouldn't be sad right now."

He lifted his hand--to comfort her somehow, perhaps stroke her hair, but he didn't know for sure.  It was an instinctual motion entirely, and had he more time to consider it, he would have known better.  After all, he, one so lowly as himself, had no right to touch the Princess.  Regardless, she had gently grasped his wrist and shoved her face closer to his before he had time to react.

"Nonsense!" she retorted, tone bold and impassioned but not harsh, never harsh with him.  "Nick, had I never met you, I would be here in this strange place alone.  You were my first friend in Niflheim, as well, you know!"

His body froze, and he did not know what to do, so he only stared back at her featureless face, pretending it was eye contact.  At this point, all Nick could really think about was how she was beautiful, and he lost himself in that thought.  Terrifying and unfathomable, but beautiful nonetheless, and so gentle and kind too, even to someone like him.  Even him.

In truth, her thoughts were much the same--in spite of the pouty curve of his mouth and his eyes wide and sad, like a woebegone puppydog.  She scooted closer and leaned up, placing the gentlest of pecks on his cheek. 

His breath caught in his throat, something between a gasp and a whimper, reminding him how touch-starved being ignored for an eternity had made him.  His cheeks aflush with charcoal gray, his first instinct was to retreat into himself, because surely this wasn't right, surely he had done something wrong.  Surely something he wanted this badly couldn't be happening to him, and more surely still, he was reading far too much into it.

"What are you...?"  He couldn't bring himself to finish the question.

"I intend to get you noticed, just as I promised, because I care about you and want to see you happy," she spoke in a low voice.  "So please don't lose hope and don't put yourself down."

Touched as he was, that didn't really address his question, but he didn't say that.  He forced a soft, awkward smile, though, and he tried to tamper down the feelings of guilt that nagged at him and told him he did not deserve such kindness.

"I want you to feel loved." It was a simple statement, but it instantly seemed more layered when she added, "Most especially by me."  

She hugged him tight, which was all well and good, until he realized that in that hug, she had positioned her soft, silhouette of a body on his lap.  Nothing about their interaction had to be anything but chaste--and he felt guilty for the places his mind wandered to.  Still, they were frozen for several moments too long because once Isabella felt him in her arms, she found it difficult to let him go.  His skin was lifeless and soft, much like he was, and cold to the touch, contrasting his warmth.  As the moment lingered, he grew increasingly thankful that he was indeed a dead man--or else his heart would have beat so fast he would become one in her embrace.

She unwrapped her formless, wispy arms from around him and started to scoot back, to return to her own seat--certainly from that point, their evening would have resumed normally--but as she shifted her weight, she inadvertently applied just the right amount of pressure to his groin.

A started Nick made a hissing sound--a sharp intake of air through gritted teeth, sucking his breath into lungs that no longer served a purpose.

"Hmm?"  Isabella froze, tilting her head.  Her voice was sheepish.  "Did I hurt you?"

"No!  Quite the opposite, really--"  His reply came too quickly and certainly too enthusiastically.  He had only wanted to dispel her worries and protect her from guilt, ensuring her it had no place, but instead he had barked out something embarrassing. "I, er..."

"Oh?  Well, in that case..."  Experimentally, she repeated the motion, then again. She made a low sound, something like a chirp or a hum, and that was all it took.

He felt himself stiffen beneath her, and most assuredly, she felt it too, because he heard her gasp--why did she gasp?  Did she even have lungs?  She must have been disgusted with him.  He certainly was.

Now his pants felt tight and he felt mortified.  "S-stop!"

"Why?" came her innocent question.

He didn't know how to respond because the question had too many answers and he was too discombobulated to articulate any of them at all.  _Because you're the King's betrothed, because you're a princess and I'm absolutely nobody, because this is indecent, because it's embarrassing._ It might have been easier for him to say "because every reason in the world" but that wouldn't have made much sense.

Nick had only just begun to sputter out some manner of reply when she kissed him, square on lips.  His hands tightened at the silken bedsheets to keep from trembling as he eased himself into her kiss, not allowing himself to return it.  

He couldn't.  He couldn't possibly--

She started again, rocking herself against the throbbing bulge in his trousers, and he allowed himself the liberty of gripping her shadowy form over her dress right where her hips would be to still her movements--and she regarded him curiously.  

"W-why are you..."  His voice trailed off because he couldn't make himself say what she was doing out loud.

"I care for you a lot," she began, and though she didn't initially say anymore, it was obvious more words danced across the tip of her tongue.  "I want to make you feel better."  She went on in a low tone, not quite a whisper, but with an uncustomary meekness to it.  "I like how it feels too..."

He looked as though his brain had short-circuited, mouth hanging slightly open, eyes sparkling and wide.  His fingers hooked the hem of her flowery dress, hiking it up to her waist where he gripped her.  "Are you sure you want to do this to me...?"

But she didn't answer, not with words, at least.  She just grinded her hips softly against him, placing her hands against his bare chest for balance, stygian fingertips sliding beneath his big hooded scarf.  Ill-defined and unearthly as she was, like a solid shadow draped in the silky cloths of her dress, her movements were graceful and her touch so reassuring and soft.  She leaned into kiss him again, but it was no kiss, just a gentle brush of the lips that left them both wanting, and her hands slid downwards to compensate.

Isabella traced the shape of his hardness through the fabric of his pants with a single finger, achingly slow, and watched with pleasant interest when it twitched in response.  Nick let out a jagged breath.  Simply being _looked at_ was the oddest combination of mortifying and exhilarating.  Modesty and desire were dueling in his addled brain, unable to determine whether he more wanted to hide himself or be seen by the woman he cared for, the woman he wasn't worthy of.

She stuffed her hands down his pants without warning and grasped him--hesitating hands trying to figure out how to please him, what to do.  A dainty, ethereal hand teased up and down his shaft, with gentleness and uncertainty.  Every muscle in his body felt tight, like they desperately needed to be unwound, and a sense of urgency overtook them.  Not quite a heat in the literal sense, but a burning need built in the pit of his stomach.

Involuntarily, Nick bucked his hips slightly into her grasp, her hand wrapped around the base of his cock with a firm but not-too-tight squeeze.  Nick finished, a wet, sticky stain forming on his pants, and the heat of the moment chilled over.  

Once again, they were just two lonely souls with unbeating hearts trying to make sense of the world around them--and all he could do was stare at her while he adjusted himself, both wanting to somehow return the favor but not having the wherewithal left to make the offer.


End file.
